Kelly
Kelly’s face contorted with another wave of pain; every muscle tensed then remained rigid in resignation and endurance. I could not help her. I had no entrance through that barrier. I prayed.
Later she spoke. She had no relieving tears, just anger, indiscriminately aimed at anyone nearby. She turned to me. I saw the panic, the dread, the pleading in her eyes.
I was not in pain and yet I was overwhelmed by pain as I witnessed her unbearable pain. My pain was in seeing her pain. I needed relief from this stress.
Where could I go? I could leave, go home, and watch a movie; forget. But I stayed.
I took a few deep breaths; blocked for a moment this transfer of pain. I breathed again, more deeply, relaxed my clenched hands, released my clenched teeth, sat back and stretched out my legs. I looked away from her face, up and out through the window to the hills; only momentarily, not for long.
She was still so absorbed by her pain she did not notice my mind had left her. Where did I go in those moments?
“Oh, my God! None of us have sufficient resources to help with this pain. Please help!”
I breathed out my supplication in a sigh, and, at the same time, breathed out my compulsion to fix this. I let it go. I drank in the relief, the peace of not being responsible to solve this problem of pain. And I stayed.
I breathed in the peace of God that is beyond me and my understanding. I recognized the excruciating pain that Jesus endured as he was killed, slowly, abandoned by humanity and even His Father. I realized that my pain, Kelly’s pain, was not as severe as His was. I knew that our Father, God, was present at this pain. He never leaves us.
“I’m so tired of this,” she whispered, spent with the torment and emotion.
“Would you like me to pray?” I asked.
“Oh yes!” she murmured, and her gaze turned away from me; tension began to ease out of her body.
There is a deep place within each one of us where no one can come. A friend may be willing to come. A friend may understand. A friend may care. A friend may, with all their heart, want to reach into that place and be there, a companion to help and make the pain go away, or at least make it bearable; but a friend is on the outside and cannot come into that deep, dark place.
We reach out in longing to Whoever, Whatever is beyond this human experience. We realize there is a Being beyond who holds our fate in His metaphorical hands.
We call out to Him. We let Him take all we are; we let Him carry us through the darkness, the tangled confusion, the stabbing daggers of pain, till the dawning of a new day.
by Andrea Kidd
